


Things That Might Have Been II

by OllyJay



Series: Things That Might Have Been [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Close Quarters, Gen, MFMM Year of Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Phryne finally  has a date with Jack this evening - but is it all too late?





	Things That Might Have Been II

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/gifts).



> Whopooh, here is a continuation of the secret santa fic, it contains none of the things you asked for, which is admittedly a slight oversight on my part but the need for another bottle fic was great - I hope you can understand my dilemma and forgive me (even though it is well known that you have a personal vendetta against March - LOL) ❤❤❤

“Oh God Phryne, do you never get tired of it?”

Phryne stopped mid monologue - to be fair she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. She had started her reminiscing to keep at bay the fear that threatened to overtake her about all the things in the pitch dark that could be spiders. The pointed reminder made her feel somewhat embarrassed as she reviewed what she had just said. “Sorry, I…”

“...was trying to keep your mind occupied so you wouldn’t have to think about the spiders?”

“Exactly,” Phryne confirmed, rather put out that her weakness should be so obvious. "Also, I forgot you were here,” she admitted.

“So nice to hear my presence has such an impact on you." These words were accompanied by some shuffling against the cold, rough brick of the wall they were leaning on.

"That's not what I..."

"Whilst you were luxuriating in your phobia I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might have certain overwhelming fears of my own, by any chance?” More shuffling ensued. The dirt floor was hard, uncompromising and not at all comfortable to sit on.

"Sorry, I…”

“No, I didn’t think so.”

Phryne felt suitably chastened. It was true, she had not even considered her companions state of mind, accustomed as she was to that being a state of constant calm competence. It occurred to her that it would be polite, and to be honest now she was curious, to ask what fears those might be. “Is there something? Something that you are scared of?”

“What?” the reply had a slightly offended tone. “What on earth is there to be scared of? It’s not as if I’m locked in the basement of an empty apartment block that is scheduled for destruction in less than four hours and thus doomed to spend the last moments of my life listening to the sordid tale of your romantic misadventures? Oh hang on,” there was a theatrical pause, “that’s exactly where I am. Lucky then that you let someone know where you were rushing off to before you brought me here, isn’t it?”

Silence seemed the most honest response. And the grunt of acknowledgement that greeted that silence indicated that no one had thought for a moment that Phryne had told anyone where she was going. Which made it highly unlikely that anyone would find them. Sorry seemed a wholly inadequate word but she tried it anyway. “Sorry.”

The silence that enveloped them was slightly more oppressive than previously.

“Apology accepted,” the words came across as reasonably sincere, if you ignored the begrudging undercurrent.

Phryne’s head turned towards the sound gratefully. “I want you to know that, if this is the end, I’m glad we were together.” She reached out a hand blindly towards the voice.

“Ouch!” there was scuffling, “That was my eye. I know there’s nothing to see here but I’d still prefer to wander the halls of Valhalla with two eyes.” Nonetheless a hand enclosed hers and held it tightly.

“Is that how it works? Do you carry your injuries with you into the afterlife?”

“How should I know?”

“You mentioned it,” Phryne said reasonably.

“Oh, I am not going to have a esoteric conversation with you about the afterlife - that would be frankly depressing in the circumstances. I’d prefer you carried on with the inane tales of your sexual encounters.”

Phryne squeezed the hand that held hers, happily. “Alright, where was I?”

There was a heartfelt sigh. “Somewhere between an acrobat and an American sailor, I believe.”

Twenty minutes, and countless partners, later the monologue was interrupted. “Did I just understand you correctly? The gentleman in question arrived at your boudoir, participated in some fairly innocuous activity and then promptly discharged himself? Without, as it were, turning up for duty?”

“Yes, it happens more often than you would think.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Wrong with him? Nothing. He was a perfectly healthy and reasonably presented man in his mid-thirties.”

“Are you sure you weren’t doing anything overly stimulating at the time?”

“If I was, I admit to being unaware of it.”

“Do you think he was inexperienced?”

“Not at all! He seemed a man of the world, as it were. And we were both still mostly clothed.”

“Hmm… perhaps the existence of the opportunity in itself was too exciting for him?”

“Possibly. He certainly lasted longer the next time we met up.”

There was a strangled sound from beside her. “You actually invited him around again?”

“Of course! I felt that I had not sufficiently explored all that he had to offer.”

“Sounds to me as though you’re running a charity.”

There was a stifled laugh. “It’s rarely good the first time. I can count on one hand the number of times it’s even been satisfying.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it’s mainly fumbling and getting limbs stuck in inconvenient places and…”

“Please! Spare me the details.”

“You did ask,” Phryne pointed out.

“That’s true, but it appears I didn’t really want to know.”

The silence came back. But only for a short time.

“What are you doing?”

Phryne stopped. “I am counting on one hand the number of times it’s been satisfying.”

“That’s my hand!”

“Yes, well I thought that might add a bit of variety to the task.”

There was a slight struggle. “You are not using my hand to count your lacklustre sexual escapades.”

Phryne tugged the hand towards her. “Don’t be silly, what does it matter what I count with your hand?”

“It’s my hand and it will not be forced to participate in such nonsense.” The hand was dragged from her grasp. Both parties were immediately made aware of the loss of body heat and comfort this resulted in.

The silence that descended this time felt lonelier.

After a while. “Phryne?”

“Yes.”

“If you promise not to use it as a counting device, you can hold my hand again.”

Phryne immediately found the proffered hand, brought it to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckle. “Thank you,” she said, letting their entwined hands fall to rest comfortably between them.

“What about you?” Phryne asked after all of thirty seconds of silence.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you have any stories you would like to share?”

“Of my sexual partners? Good Lord, of course not!”

“No need to sound so offended. I just thought it would be interesting.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t need to be calculating how many satisfying experiences I have had.”

“Really? How many?” You could almost hear Phryne fluttering her eyelashes.

“Oh, for goodness sake, three. Three sexual partners, alright? All of them long term, all of them immensely satisfying, both physically and emotionally.”

“Hmm… I only tried that once, the emotional thing. It did not work out well for me.”

“But the rarely fulfilling sex with strangers does?”

“Well, as you mention it, I have been considering taking a different approach.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I may have met someone who warrants another attempt at emotional attachment.”

“If you could see me now, my eyebrows are raised.”

“I am entitled to change my modus operandi, if I wish,” Phryne said slightly defensively.

“Of course you are. Fully entitled.”

“Change is a good thing. It should be embraced. It denotes learning and growing, as a person.”

“And potentially better sex.”

“Yes,” the beaming smile was implicit, “I have high expectations regarding the quality of the sex.”

“You don’t foresee any embarrassing non-performance issues?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I wish you well.”

“Thank you, I’ll let you know how it…” Phryne’s voice faded away as she realised the impact their current predicament would have on her evenings plans.

“Ah… yes… slight issue regarding timing. Rather unfortunate.”

“I suddenly wish I had told someone where I was going,” Phryne said glumly.

“That, undoubtedly, would have been useful.”

The darkness was now full of frustration, thwarted hopes and self-recrimination.

“Fortunately," an air of smugness cut through the gloom, "I am familiar enough with your methods to have taken certain steps myself.”

“Really?” Phryne sounded hopeful.

“Yes, I may have left a message for someone who has a vested interest in following up on my whereabouts if I haven’t called in by a certain time.”

“That is excellent forethought. Do you anticipate it taking much longer?”

“No, they should be here any moment.”

As if summoned the sound of many feet tramping through the deserted building reached their ears and much shouting of “Miss Fisher!” and “Doctor!”

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived,” said Mac. The low distinctive voice of the Inspector could be heard barking orders. Mac pressed Phryne’s hand, “Think of it as being given another chance. He’s a good man, Phryne, and you deserve him.”

“I never said it was…”

The hand holding hers squeezed tight and she bit back the pointless denial.

In no time at all the door swung open. “Miss Fisher? Doctor?”

“Come on, Jack.” Phryne grabbed his hand whilst Mac was still blinking to adjust her eyes to the light. “We’ve got a murderer to catch and she’s got a head start!”

Mac watched him let her pull him along without hesitation - no questions, no protestations, just complete and utter trust in her abilities. “You poor bastard,” she muttered sympathetically under her breath, though she did remember to wave cheerily when Phryne turned to blow her a happy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to both solitary_cyclist and Sarahtoo who have both, at various times, attempted to sort out my ignorance of the concept of punctuation ❤❤❤


End file.
